


Thawing Ice

by satelliteinasupernova



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Exes, F/M, Getting Back Together, Holidays, Snowed In, bad weather drives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21589165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satelliteinasupernova/pseuds/satelliteinasupernova
Summary: Betty was in the middle of tearing pieces of bread for stuffing when she looked again at the kitchen clock. “FP was supposed to be back by now…” she muttered to herself.Her mother, who was busy basting the turkey, was unconcerned, “I’m sure things just got busy at the office. He’ll be home soon.”Betty wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and reached for her phone, nervously checking the weather forecast. “He’s supposed to go pick up Jughead...” The storm wasn’t supposed to start for a few more hours, but Jughead’s prep school was a few hours away, and it would take leaving as soon as possible in order to avoid the bad weather.Betty anxiously ran her fingers against the marble counter. It wasn’t her business, she reminded herself. It wasn’t up to her if Jughead got home in time for Thanksgiving.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 31
Kudos: 180
Collections: 6th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	Thawing Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by episode 4x07, but very much an AU.
> 
> Thank you to runaliore for the beta!

Betty was in the middle of tearing pieces of bread for stuffing when she looked again at the kitchen clock. “FP was supposed to be back by now…” she muttered to herself.

Her mother, who was busy basting the turkey, was unconcerned, “I’m sure things just got busy at the office. He’ll be home soon.”

Betty wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and reached for her phone, nervously checking the weather forecast. “He’s supposed to go pick up Jughead...” The storm wasn’t supposed to start for a few more hours, but Jughead’s prep school was a few hours away, and it would take leaving as soon as possible in order to avoid the bad weather.

Betty anxiously ran her fingers against the marble counter. It wasn’t her business, she reminded herself. It wasn’t up to her if Jughead got home in time for Thanksgiving.

The situation with Jughead was…well… Not many highschoolers had to deal with living in the same house as the person who had broken up with them back in sophomore year, all because their parents were now dating and had decided to move in together. Which was the exact situation Betty had found herself in since the summer.

It almost seemed too sudden to be a coincidence that soon after the move, Jughead had accepted an offer to go to a prep school outside of town, but Betty knew full well that he had been submitting his short stories to country-wide writing contests for awhile. One, apparently, had caught the attention of the fancy prep school a few hours out from Riverdale.

Jughead only occasionally came down on weekends to see his Dad and younger sister, taking over the living room couch whenever he was home. Apparently this was something he was used to, since he had typically slept on the pullout bed in the Jones’ old trailer.

Betty heard most of these things second-hand, since she and Jughead still only spoke to each other in passing. It wasn’t that they disliked each other, they just weren’t close in the way that they had been years ago. The breakup had changed everything.

With a sigh, Betty picked her phone up again, and called FP. It took four rings before he finally picked up, his voice muffled by the sound of wind against the receiver. “Hey Betty. Sorry, something came up…”

“Have you talked to Jughead?” Betty asked. Jellybean looked at her from over the back of the couch, where she had been sitting watching TV ever since Alice had kicked her out of the kitchen. 

“Yeah…” he sounded sullen. “I asked him if he could take the train home, but they’ve already shut down early for the weather. He may be stuck there…”

“I can go get him,” she said, so suddenly that it interrupted him. Her mom turned to give her a look, but from across the room, JB’s face looked hopeful. Betty continued before her mom could say anything, “I’ll just borrow Mom’s car.”

“Betty, that’d be great. Your Mom good with that?” Betty glanced over at Alice, who was visibly shaking her head. “Yep,” Betty answered anyway. “It’s decided.”

Alice’s expression was stern as Betty hung up the phone, but Betty knew she wouldn’t stop her now that she had made a promise to FP. Alice wouldn’t risk disappointing him just to prove a point.

“It’ll only take a few hours. We’ll be back before you’re even done with the turkey.” Betty pulled her winter coat out from the closet, and grabbed the keys from its place by the phone.

“You’d better call me as soon as you get there.” Alice said, waving a spatula in her direction. “And if it gets bad, just turn around and come back home. The boy won’t starve.”

“Yes, _mother_.” Betty said.

As Betty passed by JB as she moved toward the door, JB spoke up. “Thank you, Betty.” Betty couldn’t help but smile. It was worth picking up Jughead even if it was just so that JB could spend the holiday with her brother.

The sleet started to come down halfway into the drive, a mix of slush hitting the front of the windshield, but the roads remained clear. Most of the drive was along a main road, and the roads have been treated with salt the night before. So Betty turned on the headlights, ran the windshield wipers, and carried on.

She didn’t regret that choice until she was 15 minutes from the school. As soon as she turned off the main road, the car slid over an icy patch of road, leaving Betty helplessly gripping at the wheel trying to keep the vehicle facing forward. She took a breath as the wheels gripped payment again, and she regained control.

For the rest of the drive, she was stuck driving at a painfully slow speed as the road seemed only to get worse by the second. The slushy rain had changed to a heavy sleet that made it almost impossible to see the road in front of her. In the middle of all of this, her phone started to ring. Betty grit her teeth and ignored it, focusing all her attention on just driving ahead. She was only a few miles away from the school now, she would deal with her mom’s calls when she got there. Her phone rang another three times, but she ignored each one.

Betty was filled with relief when she saw the entrance to the school, only barely visible through the storm. She didn’t worry about finding the parking lot, just drove up the circular driveway at the front of the campus. She could just make out a figure standing out front in a winter coat, a hood over their head.

After the car slid awkwardly to a stop, Betty turned off the vehicle, and finally reached for her phone. Instead of the calls from her mother she had expected, the screen blinked with missed calls and messages from Jughead. 

Messages x3:

**Dad said you’re picking me up.**

**The weather’s gotten bad.**

**Go ahead back home. I’ll stay here for the night.**

She was interrupted by the sound of a loud knock at her window. She heard the muffled sound of Jughead’s voice. “Betty?”

She pushed the door open, the cold air hitting her all at once, wet ice buffeting against her face. Jughead opened his coat, and shielded her with it, dragging her toward the school. As soon as they were through the front door, he shut the heavy door behind them.

Compared to the noise of the storm outside, the prep school was intensely quiet. The only noise seemed to be the water dripping from Jughead’s coat. 

“I don’t think we should go back out in that,” Jughead said. 

Betty looked up at him. His winter coat was practically soaked through, his nose and cheeks were distinctly red from the cold.

“How long were you standing out there?” she couldn't help but ask.

He shrugged. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

There were a few different things that Betty wanted to say to that. Couldn’t he have watched from the window? What did he expect to accomplish by freezing outside?

Despite her skepticism, she couldn’t help but feel oddly touched by it.

An awkward pause passed between them. Jughead glanced around the empty hall, shifting his stance uneasily. Wanting something to focus her attention on, Betty reached for her phone.

“I should… call my mom. Tell her I made it.” She glanced back out the window. “And that I don’t think we’ll make it back tonight.”

Jughead nodded thoughtfully, and took a few steps away as she started to dial.

The phone call went about as well as Betty could hope for. She only counted three I-told-you-so’s through the entire conversation. Her mom didn’t even sound angry, mostly just relieved that she wasn’t trying to make the drive back. 

During the middle of the call, Jughead had motioned to her that he would be down the hall, and as soon as she had hung up with her mother, she followed the path he’d taken. The hall led to a series of dorm rooms, all with name tags taped to the door. Jughead had left the door to his room open, making it easy to find. As she glanced through the door, she found Jughead seated at a desk next to a bunk bed and in front of a large set of elegant stained glass windows.

“Wow,” she said as she stepped inside.

“Yeah,” Jughead chuckled, his expression sheepish. 

Betty stepped into the room and glanced around. There were a total of three beds, with another desk on the opposite side from Jughead’s. She sat down on the individual bed on the opposite wall.

“My roommates left already,” Jughead explained. “Well… pretty much everyone left yesterday. I wanted to get this project done while it was quiet around here.”

“What are you working on?” she asked.

She was surprised when he responded to her question with an open grin. “Do you remember the Baxter brothers?”

“Yeah. You used to love those books when we were kids.”

He nodded, “They’re holding a contest for the next ghost writer. If I win, I could make a career out of it.”

“Wow,” she said, honestly. “That’s amazing, Jug.” 

“Yeah, well,” he said, soberly. “That’s the goal.”

“You’ll do great. You’re a great writer, Jug,” she said with an easy smile. 

He turned away then. His ears were a bit pink, but she thought it might still be from the icy weather.

The cold was practically seeping through the building’s thick stone walls. There was an old radiator by the large wood door that gave off just enough heat that Betty could barely feel its warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. She glanced over at him. “You’re missing Thanksgiving. I should have just told Dad I wouldn’t come home this week.”

“It’s fine, Jughead.” And mostly, it was. “The forecast said most of this ice is supposed to melt away in the morning, and Mom said we could celebrate tomorrow instead.”

She could tell that Jughead was relieved to hear it.

“And anyway,” she said. “JB deserves to celebrate the holidays with her big brother.”

Jughead gave her a wry smile. “Thanks, Betty,” he said, sounding very much like his sister when she had thanked Betty earlier.

After another awkward pause, he turned back to his laptop.

With little else to occupy her time, she watched him work. His focus was zeroed in on his laptop. She couldn’t read what was written on the screen from where she was, but could see he was making fast progress.

It was only because she was watching him that she noticed that the typewriter case set on the other side of the desk.

She had given him that typewriter last Christmas. It had been only a few months after they had broken up. Her father had since left town, and her parents were officially separated. Polly, of course, had already left town much earlier. Her mother had almost obsessively embraced the holidays, as if to prove that the two of them would be fine without the rest of their family. Without asking Betty, Alice had invited the Jones’ family to join them for Christmas, and Betty had been left with a strange mix of emotions.

It was very shortly after Jughead broke up with her that her parents’ relationship ended. Betty had hardly had time to process her grief for her own short relationship when her family abruptly fell apart, taking up all of her time and attention. It was only when the dust had settled, that Betty realized just how distant she and Jughead had become.

In the end, she gave him the typewriter because she had already been planning to save up for it when they were dating. It was also, at least partly, an apology. He had broken up with her after a disastrous birthday party she had tried to throw for him. It had made him miserable, and by the end it had all blown up in her face. Some part of her had still wanted to do something for him. And hopefully do it right this time.

That Christmas afternoon, when the Jones’ had joined Betty and her mother around their large, flawlessly manicured Christmas tree, Betty had done her best to quell her nerves. She had relied on the old Cooper smile she had long perfected.

When Jughead had opened the gift, he’d looked up at her, his expression frozen.

“Hey, that’s a great gift,” FP had said, patting his son on the back. 

Jughead had cleared his throat before speaking. “Thank you, Betty.” He had stared down at the typewriter for the rest of the afternoon, resting it in his lap, and running his hand along the case.

Just before the Jones family headed home, Jughead had approached her in the kitchen as she was cleaning dishes. He’d set a wrapped gift beside her, and left without a word. 

The gift had been a beautiful first edition of one of her favorite books. She kept it on the table by her bed, and on her worst days, she would reach for it and run her fingers along the pages, hunting for her favorite passages.

Part of her wish she’d brought it along now.

Jughead glanced back at her, his expression wary. Despite coming to the conclusion that he was building up the courage to ask something, she was still surprised when he finally said, “Are you still dating Trevor Brown?”

It took Betty a moment to answer, unsure of where the question had even come from. Yes, she had gone on a few dates with Trevor over the summer, but it had felt much less like _dating_ , than it had so much as _hanging out_. Trevor was sweet and Betty enjoyed his company. He was caring and thoughtful, and his family equally so. Of all the boys at Riverdale high, she thought he was the most ideal high school boyfriend. After all the intensity of the previous year, it should have been a relief just to be with someone who made you feel nice. All that had just made Betty feel more guilty about how numb she felt. Trevor deserved someone who could appreciate him fully.

She had told him so, as kindly as she could manage. He had been disappointed, but understanding. 

“Yeah, I’d kind of suspected,” Trevor explained. “It’s probably tough living in the same house as your ex, huh?”

Betty hadn’t thought that was a factor, but maybe it was.

Jughead turned around when Betty didn’t answer. She broke from her thoughts and a jolt went through her as soon as their eyes met. He glanced away almost instantly, his demeanor still that of vague disinterest.

“No,” she said, clearing her throat. “Not for awhile now.”

Jughead gave a vague hum in answer that Betty didn’t know how to interpret.

She found herself throwing the question back at him, wary of the anxiety that had settled in the pit of her stomach. “What about you, now that you have a whole new dating pool open to you?”

Jughead snorted. It wasn’t until he glanced back that he seemed to realize that she was expecting him to answer. He scratched at the back of his head as he said, “Everyone here is a bit pretentious for my taste.”

Not sure what else to say, they both sat in silence for several minutes as Jughead went back to typing. It went on like that for at least 20 minutes, before Jughead closed the lid of his laptop and stood up.

“I’m hungry. I’m going to get some snacks from the vending machine. You want anything?”

Betty shook her head. She hadn’t eaten since noon, and it was approaching dinner time, but her stomach was still churning with uneasy nerves. Any appetite she might have had was gone.

As soon as Jughead had left, Betty leaned back against the wall at the end of the bed. She felt completely exhausted. The drive had worn her down already, and the tension in her body from being this close, as well as alone, with Jughead was not helping. 

She curled up, and closed her eyes, willing herself to just sleep through the rest of the evening. She pretended to be asleep when Jughead returned, intentionally breathing slowly and steadily. 

Once he had sat back down at his desk, he made a very valiant attempt to open a chip bag as quietly as possible. A few moments later, he went back to typing. The return of the steady noise of his computer keys was almost soothing. She let her body relax, prepared to just sleep through the rest of the storm, but no matter how much she tried, she could not fall asleep.

Frustrated, she opened her eyes and pulled her phone from her pocket. It hadn’t even been half an hour. 

With a huff, she sat up, running a hand over her hair and sorting stray strands back into her ponytail.

At some point, Jughead had moved from his desk to the upper bunk bed. He was sitting on the bed, with his back against the wall. When she sat up, he glanced over at her with a questioning look, but after a pause he turned back to his work without speaking.

Restless, she stood up, and wandered around the room, taking notes of the books piled up on the desks, the posters hung up on the wall. Jughead had a copy of Moby Dick at his desk, filled with scraps of paper to mark different sections in the book. Her eyes returned to the typewriter case.

“Do you ever use it?” she found herself asking.

“What?” he asked. He moved his legs so they were dangling off the side of the bed so he could turn to face her.

Betty turned her face away, self-conscious about her question. “The typewriter.”

“Of course I do,” he said without pause. “Seriously, Betty. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” Betty tried not to smile, and kept moving instead.

There was a copy of Romeo and Juliet tucked under a few stray papers on Jughead’s desk. At Riverdale, they had studied it in Sophomore year, so she doubted that it was being used as prep school material. She reached over to pick it up. The cover was well worn, and the binding was starting to break. The cover design was well out of date. Betty could make the general guess that the book had been bought used.

“Betty…” Jughead hopped down to the floor, sliding from the bed without using the ladder. She hadn’t realized until then that he wasn’t wearing his beanie. He was running his hands through his hair, his expression thoughtful, but wary.

“Listen…” He was standing beside her, his hand on the desk in front of her. “I know I should have said this… a year ago, but…” He looked up at her, for the first time resolute in what he was saying. “I’m sorry. About how things went down with us.”

“It’s in the past, Jughead.” She put the book back down on the table.

“No, wait...” He gently touched her arm, but almost immediately pulled back. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but I just wanted to say... what I said back then, I didn’t mean any of it.”

This time she turned toward him with a huff, “Yes, you did, Jughead. I know you did.”

“No, Betty,” he said quietly, his eyes soft, and unmistakably vulnerable. “I was being an idiot. I threw all of my insecurities in your face, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“Jughead. It’s been a year.” His old words were returning to her now, burning into her all over again. _This was never going to work, and hadn’t they always known they were on borrowed time? What was the point in pretending?_ His expression had been like a wounded animal back then, baring his teeth menacingly at her. “And If you really felt that way, why didn’t you just say so _then_?”

He looked down at the floor. “It took me awhile to calm down, to realize just badly I had screwed things up… And you were so focused on everything that was happening with your family. I didn’t think you’d want me to add my bullshit on top of that. And by the time things calmed down...I felt like I’d lost my chance.”

She didn’t know what to say. She felt such an extreme range of feelings that she couldn’t settle on one emotion, it felt like she was being stretched emotionally in every direction. Anger, Frustration, an annoying fuzzy feeling that felt awfully like hope. But most of all, she felt sad.

“I need some air.” She pushed past him, walking out of the dorm room.

“Betty,” she heard him call, but as she walked down the hallway, he didn’t follow her. She turned down another hall, not caring where it led to. 

Eventually, she found herself standing in front of the vending machine. She stood there, her eyes blankly staring a chip bag that had been put in the machine upside down. 

That whole year. A year of gritting through pain and shame every time she even saw Jughead in the school halls. A year of watching Archie and Jughead grow apart, and worrying that it was all her fault. A year of convincing herself that she just had to move on, because he’d said his piece, and it hadn’t worked out. A year of just hoping time was all she needed to finally be over him.

What a waste of time.

Betty hadn’t moved from when Jughead found her a few minutes later. He approached quietly, but stopped a few feet away. Just his presence was enough to break her composure. She blinked desperately to keep herself from crying, but she could feel loose tears start to fall down her cheeks.

Still, he didn’t speak. She turned around, intending to snap at him, to let out all the tangled, frustrating emotions she was feeling. But as soon as she saw him, she froze. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression pained.

His voice was still quiet when he said. “I don’t have any excuses. I’m going to always regret how much I screwed things up. And it’s all..” He took a deep breath, and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s so stupid. It’s all because I was already _so terrified_ of screwing things up. It scared me to know just how much you could hurt me, because I’d never loved anyone the way I loved you.”

The last of Betty’s composure crumpled, her tears streaming down her face as if an open wound.

“We could have talked about it…!” Her voice was loud, but felt thunderous in the silent halls of the school. “Instead you just… froze me out.”

“I know,” he said, his voice still soft. He walked over to her and reached out to put a hand on her arm. “You deserved so much better. I should have been better. We’d always talked things out before, but this felt… too big and too painful for me to put into words back then.” He gave a small, almost sardonic shrug as he added, “And I took my chance to run away instead.”

Betty turned away from him, rubbing the tears from her eyes with the palm of her hand.

“I’m not telling you this now just to try to get you back or anything. I just… miss you.” He gave a short laugh, but the sound was tinted with pain. “I just can’t stress enough how much being around a bunch of pretentious pricks has made me miss being around you. You’re twice as clever as anyone here, and still manage to be kind. And I….”

Another wave of tears threatened to overcome her, so instead she turned back to face him and pulled him into a kiss. Jughead barely faltered for a moment, almost immediately reaching to cup her face in his hands. 

He’d gotten taller, she thought absently, as he slowly backed her against the glass of the vending machine. She had to lean forward on her toes to reach him. He kissed her now with a hunger and steadiness that she wasn’t used to. When they had been dating, they had both been so shy, stealing quick, soft kisses when they had moments alone. Betty had never been kissed like this before; it was breathless in a way that left her feeling like her legs might give out from under her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders to steady herself. 

She wanted to keep kissing him forever. She wanted him to tell her he loved her again. She wanted to tell him- She wanted-

As Betty pulled Jughead toward her for another kiss, her back hit against the vending machine, and they were abruptly interrupted by a loud error noise coming from the machine. Betty was still encased in Jughead’s arms as she flipped around to look at it. A bag had come loose and fallen from the rack.

From over her shoulder, Jughead gave a brief laugh. ‘Only you would manage to do that accidentally,” he teased. 

She leaned down and pulled it out of the hatch at the bottom of the machine. It was a bag of chocolate chip cookies. “Well,” she said, turning to face him, “It would be a waste not to eat them.”

Jughead smiled and kissed her on the forehead affectionately.

A few hours later, Betty had collected blankets and pillows to stack up by the dorm room radiator, and was sitting bundled up on the floor in front of Jughead with his laptop in her lap. He had stretched out his legs on either side of her, and was currently actively distracting her by pressing kisses along her shoulder as she tried to proofread his writing. 

“I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear,” she said thoughtfully.

He sighed dramatically, “Go ahead.”

“I can tell that you’re setting stuff up in this first chapter, but it would really help if you-”

“-made an outline,” he groaned.

She turned to grin at him. “Mysteries are a big part of the Baxter brother’s stories. Some narratives you can approach blindly, but if you really want to win this thing, you need to get used to plotting things out.”

With a sigh, he dipped his head into her neck. “I’ll do it, but only out of a desperate need to please you.”

“It’s your project, not mine!” she laughed. He interrupted her by planting a kiss on her lips, and softly turning her toward him so that she was leaning against his chest.

“What else can I do?” he asked between kisses.

“For your novel?” Her words were slightly muffled by his lips against hers.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he said looking down at her with his face so close that she could almost count his eyelashes.

“Tell me you love me,” she whispered, pressing her hand against his chest.

He studied her face for a moment, before he said earnestly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, unable to hold back a smile from the happiness that was blooming in her chest. She leaned up to kiss him, and slowly pushed him back until he was laying against the pillows on the floor, so she could kiss him again, and again, and again.

  
  


Betty woke up in the morning up on Jughead’s bunk bed with his arms securely wrapped around her. Sunlight was streaming through the large windows, sending colored trails of light across the wall. The temperature outside was several degrees above freezing, but they took their time getting ready to go. By late morning, Betty had taken a shower in the dorm bathroom and was dressed in one of Jughead’s sweaters with the jeans she’d worn yesterday. She made a last attempt to straighten up the dorm room before they left, but every time she moved past Jughead, he would interrupt her by pulling her into his arms and wouldn’t let go until he had kissed her at least five times.

Later than she would have liked, they were finally ready to go, after Betty had left the car heating on high for 20 minutes in order to melt off the ice that had caked onto the windshield.

“I can drive if you want,” Jughead said, as they were settling in to the vehicle.

Betty gave a soft snort, “If you wreck this car, my mom will never ever let it go.” She glanced over to meet his eyes. “Whereas if I wreck this car, she’ll just hang it over my head when she wants something from me.”

“Which is worse?” he muttered, while adjusting the passenger’s seat.

  
  


After everything, it turned out to be one of the better holiday’s Betty had had in a long time. Her mom brought up several times during the meal that the turkey would have been better if they’d had it on the day it was cooked, and later hung over Betty’s shoulder when she made a customary call to her Dad, and then nagged her for any details about how his holiday had been. 

Despite all of that, JB had spent most of the day smiling and teasing her brother. FP had pulled Betty into a hug as soon as she stepped into the door. And Jughead had sat next to her the whole time, secretly holding her hand under the dinner table, and communicating with her almost solely through expressions as if their separation over the past year had never happened at all.


End file.
